


The Castle Next Door

by elistaire



Category: New Mutants, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: spook_me, Gen, Halloween, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-thirty in the afternoon...and it is the scariest time of day.  </p><p>~~~<br/><i><br/>The bats filled the sky in the shape of a dark writhing cloud. </i></p><p>
  <i>It was particularly ominous because it was two thirty in the afternoon. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hank turned to see the students filing out of the school, their faces turned up to the sky to watch the ever-shifting formation of hundreds of bats flying about in the daytime. Widow sashes were flung upwards as they peered out from the second and third floors.  Hank saw Alex and Sean come out to stare into the heavens as well.   </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Professor?" asked one of the students, a young man named Douglas who had just joined the school last month.  "Aren't bats nocturnal?"</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Castle Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the following spook_me prompts in mind: [Prompt 1](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/shcover.jpg) and [Prompt 2](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/f7fad077174a41491509e39b4fe8d85406f3da1c_m.jpg)
> 
> And a thank you goes out to Sylv for her wonderful beta skills.

_October 1st_

The bats filled the sky in the shape of a dark writhing cloud. 

It was particularly ominous because it was two thirty in the afternoon. 

Hank turned to see the students filing out of the school, their faces turned up to the sky to watch the ever-shifting formation of hundreds of bats flying about in the daytime. Widow sashes were flung upwards as they peered out from the second and third floors. Hank saw Alex and Sean come out to stare into the heavens as well. 

"Professor?" asked one of the students, a young man named Douglas who had just joined the school last month. "Aren't bats nocturnal?"

"Usually," Hank said, turning over the unusual behavior in his mind even as he considered his answer. "Unless they are ill, or somehow disturbed." 

Charles stopped beside him, also peering up at the dark swatch of bats as they made their furious, panicked way across the bright blue sky. "There are some caves toward the far side of the town. I believe they are also popular for spelunking. They must have come from there."

"We should watch the news tonight," Hank said. "If there was any heavy construction work, that might have frightened them out of the cave."

"Excellent idea," Charles said. "And it would give a reason for such a strange activity."

The students and most of the teachers stayed outside to watch the bats flutter en mass, until they were gone across the sky, making only the darkest of smudges in the distance. 

Later that night, Hank remembered to watch the nightly news on television. Just as they had guessed, the news anchors mentioned blasting in mines on the other side of town, as well as the unusual sight of the dispersed bats. It made sense, but somehow it seemed just a little too easy an explanation. Hank shook his head, and wondered if he were growing more paranoid than usual. But it was the peculiar memory of all those bats, dark and writhing in their flight, against the too-bright sky that stayed with Hank. A dull feeling settled in his stomach, and he did not forget. 

~~~ 

_October 8th_

A week later, at two thirty in the afternoon, the black cats showed up. 

"Professor McCoy?"

"Yes?" Hank looked up from his calculations on Cerebro--which was temporarily off-line to fix a minor surging issue--to find three of the students cradling black cats in their arms. "Cats!" he said. 

"Dozens of them!" said the first student, Amara. 

"There're more outside!" said the second student, Roberto. 

The third student, Rahne, dropped her cat and it scooted toward Hank, and curled around his ankle. "The wee things don't seem to have a home," she said as she tried to pick up the cat and cradle it in her arms again. 

Hank turned to look out the window. He usually had a pleasant, and informative, view of the front of the grounds. He could watch students being dropped off or picked up. Now, in the bright afternoon sunlight, he could see the scurrying of hundreds of little dark forms. 

"Be careful that they don't scratch you," Hank warned. There was no way he could stop all the students from trying to catch the cats. "I'll find Professor Xavier, and we'll see if something has happened. In the meantime," he paused as he looked down to where Rahne had finally managed to capture the slinky feline, which yowled its discontent at being caught, "just don't get hurt."

Hank left the students behind and found Charles outside. He had a large black cat with green eyes sitting on his lap. He was rubbing it behind the ears, and it was purring contentedly, its eyes half-closed. 

"Last week bats, now cats," Hank said. "I fear what else might come along if we stay on this rhyming scheme."

Charles laughed. "You make an astute point, Hank. But as far as I can tell, this doesn't seem to be caused by any mutant abilities that I can detect. Last week there was a simple, human answer for the bats. Perhaps we should watch the news again tonight."

Several cats started twining around Hank's ankles, pleading to be given attention. "We'll watch the news," Hank said. He rubbed tiredly at his face as he saw that just about every student at the school had spilled out onto the lawn and was picking up cats into their arms. Fortunately the other teachers had also come out and were quickly taking the situation in hand. "In the meantime, I'll go find the antiseptic and the bandages. There are bound to be scratches."

The black cat on Charles' lap flicked its ears, squinted its eyes momentarily at Hank, and then settled down to purr even louder. 

~~~ 

_October 15th_

It was five minutes to two thirty and Hank was on edge. He was a scientist, and while last week the cat invasion had been explained away by an overturned pet rescue truck, and the cats had been seen all over town as well, Hank was still suspicious. 

It didn't feel quite right. Something mysterious was going on. 

Of course, because he thought he'd detected a pattern--two thirty in the afternoon, separated by a week, and a plague of something rhyming with bat or cat--nothing happened at all. 

The day was a dreary one, instead of the bright blue October skies of the previous week, this one threatened rain all day without delivering. Clouds hung overcast and low, until finally night crept in to cover it all. 

Which is when the whispers started. 

Just at the edge of the range of his hearing, Hank caught hints of voices. Whispering. He went to the window and looked out, but only saw blackness. Determined, he went downstairs to turn on the outside lighting. If something was there, it would be revealed. 

Rahne was the first one to come to him. "Professor McCoy?" she asked as she approached him. Her eyes were wide, and she glanced through the windows to the lighting he had just turned on outside. "I think something is out there," she said. "I keep hearing them."

"Who?" he asked. 

"I don't know," Rahne replied, and she shifted forms right in front of him, from that of a little girl into a half-wolf. "Other children, I think." She sniffed at the air. "But I do not smell them."

Hank scrutinized the grounds that were illuminated by the outside lighting. He could see nothing, and smell nothing, but he agreed with Rahne. He could almost hear something. 

Sam, a slightly older student, soon came down to the hallway. "I hear them too," he said, when he learned Rahne's account. "They want us to come out to meet them."

"Definitely not!" Hank said. "Everyone will stay inside."

Soon other students filled the hallway. They clumped into groups, although a few hung back alone, and all waited to see what Hank would do. 

"I can barely hear anything," Doug said. "If I could hear them, I could tell what they were actually saying. It doesn't sound like a language."

Rahne shuddered. "'Tis like Sam said. They want us to come out to them."

"There's nothing out there." Illyana said. She was another recent addition to the school, and Hank had been impressed by her toughness. She didn't seem like she cared much if the others liked her opinions or not. "And I can't hear them, anyway." She folded her arms across her chest. "You're all letting your imaginations get away with you."

"Where's Professor Xavier?" Hank asked, after a solid ten minutes of indecision. It wasn't late enough to send anyone to bed. It just felt that way because dark came so early as winter approached. He glanced out into the night. Was it his imagination that there were shadowy figures just at the far edge of his vision? The lighting he had turned on only stretched so far before the night closed in again. Something could be out there, on the fringe, waiting and whispering. 

A quiet muttering of giggles came through the crowd and Hank frowned. He pointed to Illyana, who seemed the least spooked. "Would you please find Professor Xavier and ask him to join us here?"

Illyana exchanged a glance with Roberto. "Sir, he's asleep in the study. Do you want me to wake him?"

"Asleep?" Hank asked. "Please wait here, then. I'll retrieve him." He left the students milling about in the foyer, and he went to the study. 

Charles was indeed asleep. There was a book on his lap, open, and about to fall to the floor. Charles looked like he'd just dozed off while reading, which wasn't unexpected. He often burned the midnight oil taking care of school responsibilities. He worked harder than any of them at keeping his school organized. Still, Hank didn't often find Charles asleep so early in an evening. It was uncharacteristic. Hank glanced quickly at the title, it was a book of short stories and poems by Edgar Allen Poe. 

"Charles?" Hank asked, and Charles opened his eyes. 

"Oh, Hank." Charles blinked and looked around. He yawned, and realized there was a book on his lap. He carefully closed it. "I must have fallen asleep. It will ruin my image with the students, you know." He sighed. "They have terrible expectations. No one could possibly live up to them."

"Agreed," said Hank. "But I need your assistance. There may, or may not, be something outside." 

"Hmm," Charles said, with the familiar look to his eyes that Hank knew meant he was reaching out with his telepathic powers. "I don't sense anything."

"Come to the front hall," Hank said. 

"Yes, I believe I should. The students have gathered." Charles accompanied Hank down the hallway. The students parted to let them pause in front of the door and windows. Charles put one finger to his temple. "There's nothing out there," he said.

Hank frowned, but looked again. This time the shadowy edges seemed less menacing. It was just dark outside, not forlorn and desolate. Not pleading enticements to lure innocent schoolchildren outside. 

"I don't hear them anymore," Rahne said in a small voice, at his elbow. "I think they've gone, Professor."

Hank turned, ready to disperse the crowd of students, when a collective gasp went up. A soot-colored bird flapped its way across the top of the room and alit on a bust of Thoreau. It turned its bead-dark eyes at the crowd, and gave a raucous caw. 

Hank sighed in relief. He had been sure it had been about to croak 'Nevermore'. 

Probably they'd all been hearing the bird rustling its feathers for the past twenty minutes. 

"Okay, everyone," he said. "Fun's over! Back to studying! Go brush your teeth." He pointed at two students before they turned to leave. "Both of you. I'll need some help returning the raven to its natural environment. Outside." This was the first time a raven had gotten inside, but he'd dealt with numerous pigeons, robins, and sparrows all summer long.

Hank glanced at Charles, who was covering his mirth only minimally with a hand over his mouth. 

"Sorry, Hank," he said with a shrug. "I think its just the season. Halloween is coming. We're all very suggestible right now."

~~~ 

_October 22nd_

Hank was making a cake. He'd found the flour, milk, and the eggs, a few lemons in the bottom drawers for flavor, but he couldn't find any sugar. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Two thirty in the afternoon. It seemed like it should have been an important time, but it escaped him why.

Charles wheeled into the kitchen, just behind him, humming a tune that Hank recognized, but couldn't quite place. "Just in for a glass of water," he said. 

"I can't find the sugar," Hank said. He had the stack of measuring cups in one hand. "Do we have any sugar?"

Charles frowned momentarily, and then shook his head. "I think we must be out. Oh, well. You can borrow some from next door."

"Next door?" Hank asked. "The closest house is over five miles away."

"Oh, not a house," said Charles brightly. "You know. The castle next door. They'll have sugar. They must be baking all the time. Being a castle, and all."

"Castle?" Hank asked. "There's no castle next door. Is there?" Suddenly Hank was a little fuzzy on the details. Wasn't there a forest to two sides of them and a lake to one, and the fourth was taken up with the road? 

"Don't be shy," Charles said. "They won't mind having mutants as neighbors. In fact, I'll go with you. I haven't gone over there in ages." He turned right around in the kitchen and started to leave. "Hurry, Hank!"

Hank put down the measuring cups and grabbed a plastic container. If there was a castle next door, he was at least going to get enough sugar to make a cake. Hank frowned. Why was he making a cake? He didn't really like baking. He supposed it was just like chemistry, only with food instead of caustic chemicals. But he couldn't remember why he'd decided to bake anything, certainly not the reason for a cake. "Uh, Charles," he said, as they left by the side door and hastily made their way around the hedges on the sidewalks outside. The day was unusually lovely, Hank noted. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds and there were birds singing in the bushes. Small purple flowers bloomed amongst the blades of grass, making the lush lawn look like it would be particularly comfortable to lie down upon, and stare up at the sky. "Charles?"

"Yes, Hank?" Charles rounded the corner, and he pointed. "There it is, just like I knew it was. The castle."

Hank rounded the corner too, and nearly dropped the container he was holding. There was a castle. It looked like it had come straight out of a coloring book. The stones were all washed white and clean. There were multiple turrets, and colorful banners flew atop poles on each and everyone. There was even a moat around the castle, although it was full of clean, blue water, and some graceful swans were gliding about on its surface. "Charles?" he asked. "Are you playing a trick?"

"I don't think so," Charles said, though he furrowed his brow in concentration. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that I'm sure there's never been a castle next door before. So I thought maybe you were...creating it." Everything felt real to Hank, but that was the power of a telepath. Hank couldn't even be sure he was awake, really. But he had no reason to doubt it. The only thing that seemed out of place was the fairytale castle right next door. 

"The castle has always been there," Charles said with a light laugh. "Did you still want sugar? Follow me."

Dubiously and cautiously, Hank followed. He glanced back at the mansion, but none of the students were visible, so he didn't know if they saw the castle or not. They reached the moat, and luckily the drawbridge was down. Charles moved over it smoothly, as if it had been designed for a wheelchair's access. 

"I don't think anyone is home," Charles said. "We'll borrow some sugar and leave a note. We can replace it later this week."

Hank just nodded. "I'll make sure about it," he said. If the castle was still here later in the week. They found the kitchen, which Hank noted looked like a strange mishmash between the kitchen of a castle seen in cartoons and a real house's kitchen. The sugar jar was sitting right out on the counter, as if waiting for them. 

"There you go," Charles said as he found a pencil and a scrap of paper and scribbled a note. "I can't seem to remember who exactly lives here," he said, frowning. "Is it one princess or two? Ah, well. I just won't address it."

Hank peeked around a few corners, but there was no one to be found, and each room was just a careful blank, filled with unicorn tapestries on the walls and marble fireplaces. "We should go," he said. He didn't want them to be inside the castle if it suddenly vanished back where it came from. It didn't seem inherently dangerous, but without Charles' being cognizant about it possibly not being real, Hank wasn't sure what to do about it. Alex could blast it. He supposed Sean could scream at it. But other than just existing, it wasn't doing them any harm at the moment. 

"Yes, you'd like to get back to your cake." Charles' eyes lit up. "It will be lovely to have some cake. Did you say you were going to make a lemon frosting?"

"I must have," Hank said, unsure. He couldn't quite pin down the cake concept. He only knew that he wanted to make one. 

They went back to the house and into the kitchen, letting the castle stay where it was. Hank busied himself with measuring and beating up a batter. 

Charles hummed happily and scooted out of the kitchen to leave Hank on his own. 

It took until two in the morning, since Hank had never made one before, but finally, there was cake. He set it aside to cool, and the lemon icing to wait. He would frost it in the morning. 

Exhausted, he fell asleep without even taking his glasses off. 

In the morning, Hank found Charles in the kitchen again. He was cradling a mug of tea and looking very worn. 

"Morning, Hank," he said. "Thank goodness I haven't got any classes. I can't seem to wake myself up." He yawned. Hank frowned at him for a long moment. If the entire castle next door had been a product of Charles' abilities, it would explain why he was more severely taxed than usual. He set the hypothesis aside for the time being. 

"I was up late, baking." Hank waved a hand at the cake, still sitting on the counter. That, at least, had been real. "I know how you feel."

"Oh, yes, I remember now. You needed sugar." Charles yawned again. 

Suddenly suspicious, Hank pulled the bowl of icing out of the refrigerator. He scooped up a small amount with a spoon and licked. Sour. He made a face. 

"Not good?" Charles asked. 

"No," Hank said. "It doesn't have any sugar in it." He turned to the cake and grabbed a knife. He sliced off a piece. 

"Didn't you want to frost that first?" Charles asked as he covered yet another yawn. 

Hank bit down on the piece of cake and then spat it out into the sink. "No sugar in there either."

"What?" Charles looked confused. 

"Wait right there--" Hank dashed outside. He rounded the corner and saw the empty sky. Not a castle in sight. A few students were out jogging and they waved at him, he waved back, and returned to the kitchen. "Charles, do you recall yesterday?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Do you remember the castle next door?"

"Yes, of course--" Charles paused and frowned. "I see what you mean. Hold on a moment." He raised two fingers to the middle of his forehead and closed his eyes. "It's like looking through a bit of a fog," he said. He chuckled. "Oh, my."

"What? What happened?"

"I'm not quite sure, really. Someone, I expect one of the students, must have lost control. They seem to have implanted those images. Quite extraordinary, really. I utterly believed it. In fact...." Charles grinned. "Indeed. This mutant seems to have latched onto me, and I--I suppose amplified is as good a word as any, the vision. It doesn't seem to have affected anyone else, other than that we all believed we had a next door neighbor. Most innocuous." He lowered his hand and opened his eyes. "There are only a handful of students with abilities that would possibly interact with mine this way. I'll make a point of speaking with each of them today, and see what happened." Charles patted Hank on the arm. "Nothing to fret about."

"Let me know when you figure out what and who," Hank said. "We'll make them eat the cake."

Charles laughed. "Now, Hank. Just because of imaginary sugar?"

"Because I was up baking until two in the morning!" Hank groaned. "I'm going back to bed. I'll see you at lunch."

~~~ 

_October 29th_

Hank still hadn't managed to fix the issue with Cerebro, which was a problem, because Charles had canvassed the students with the ability to create a fake fairytale castle on the lawn, and none of them had been responsible. That meant that there was either an elaborate attack, which was less probable, or an errant mutant out in the community who needed to be located. 

Hank glanced at his watch. Two twenty-five. 

Something caused the events to happen seven days apart at two thirty. It seemed an odd reoccurrence, but then life events had a bizarre way of congregating together. 

He looked out the window. What had been a calm, semi-sunny day was quickly growing gray and overcast. A dense fog was forming in the gullies and depressions of the lawn, and between the far-off trees. Hank squinted into the distance. There seemed to be a blob of light bobbing around, just a few feet off the ground. The correct height for a person to be carrying a light of some kind. 

He was out to the hallway before the students could knock on his door this time, although there were three of them with frightened looks on their faces. "I'm looking into it," he said. 

He met Charles in the foyer. Charles, pale and with his eyes wide and belying his worry, gave him a quick half smile and then rolled himself to the outside landing. "It appears to be the same mutant," he murmured. "But it is a bit muddled. Any chance of Cerebro being up and working?"

"Not yet," Hank muttered. He had been working on it, but the small problem had been elusive to pin down and he just wouldn't risk putting Charles in there if it wasn't working perfectly. Not for bats, cats, or castles. 

Charles frowned, a finger pressed to his temple. "Whoever it is, they've somehow been able to incorporate my assistance, even when I'm paying attention to it. But I can't follow the psychic thread back to the origin, to the person, and find out who it is."

Hank motioned behind him. The students had gathered in the foyer, their faces pressed to the glass of the windows to either side. "Stay inside," he ordered. "Professor Xavier and I are dealing with it." He turned to Charles. "So, it isn't real at all?" he asked. 

"Parts of it are real," Charles said. "But most of it is illusion." He pushed forward. "The weather, the fog, the ambiance, that's all in the mind. Whomever is out there with a candle. That's real."

"Some mutant is making things out of nothing?" Hank asked. "That's incredible."

They went a short distance down the walk and the figure in the woods came out to meet them. It was an old man, his back quite bent, and he carried a jack-o'-lantern in his arms. The candle's flame inside guttered and danced. The man's eyes reflected the candle light, as he turned to address them. "Neither will let me in," he said, reaching out a scraggly hand. "Heaven don't want me, and the devil keeps his bargains."

Hank recoiled, and pulled at the hand-rests on Charles' chair to make sure he was safe. Charles often had no sense of self-preservation when it came to danger. 

Charles studied the figure, but in a dispassionate way. "There's nothing for you here," Charles told the man. "Keep wandering." 

The man's expression turned to one of woe and resignation, and he hefted up his carved pumpkin, and continued on into the mists, until all that was left was a lighter grey spot against the blackened mists. 

"I think I understand now. Hank, we'd best return inside. This should all fade shortly."

"What is it?" Hank asked as they approached the house. 

"Another mutant. With a very specific sort of psionic ability. Whomever it is can pull out specific images from our minds, possibly those that are emotionally charged. So, in essence, those things that frighten us or delight us. Have you noticed that everything we've encountered has had to do with scary stories?"

"Halloween is in a few days," Hank said as he digested the information. "You're postulating that whomever it is has been encountering ghost stories and making them come true?"

"Or some version of them. This person seems to be pulling from many minds all at once, a collective fear instead of a specific individual's, so we are getting a wide array of effects."

"But the whole school is affected. Sometimes the entire town," Hank said. "This mutant must be incredibly powerful."

Charles looked sheepish. "I believe a bit of that is my fault. This mutant seems to have an affinity for my abilities. You remember the raven a few weeks ago?"

They paused on the front landing to finish their discussion. Hank could see the students pressed still against the windows. "Yes."

"I was reading The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe."

"I noticed," Hank said. "But the raven in the hallway didn't show up until I'd woken you."

"The vision shifted at that point, because I had been thinking of the poem."

"So, there were _two_ scary stories intersecting."

"Yes."

"And it always happens at two thirty," Hank said, musing on that. "As if...as if it is story time." He locked gazes with Charles. "A student? A very young student?"

"It would fit the pattern," Charles agreed. "It matches normal school hours, and perhaps the teacher is telling frightening tales as we approach the holiday." 

"But the castle wasn't frightening," Hank said. "It didn't fit the pattern."

"Perhaps we just don't know the story," Charles said. "Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, any number of cruel stories take place in a castle."

"But without Cerebro, you can't pinpoint the child?"

"Not as of yet. I will keep trying, Hank. But it is an elusive ability. It just reads what is being thought, it isn't invasive otherwise. Like quicksilver in the mind, barely there at all. And it is essentially untrained." Charles nodded at the door. "We'd better go in and warn the students. I fear that on Halloween itself that we may be in for quite a bumpy experience."

Hank swallowed down his fear. Having a hypothesis about what was going on hadn't made it any easier. Now he knew for sure that the next event was likely to be centered around Charles, and the school itself. He hoped they could keep the students safe. 

~~~ 

_October 31st_

Halloween was crystal clear and cold. There had been frost on the ground that morning and a low-lying white mist that cloaked the ground. 

Nothing had happened for a few days, ever since the wandering, doomed soul with the Jack-o'-lantern has passed through, but Hank was on edge. At two thirty on the dot, he had been in the front hallway, with his nose pressed to the window glass, watchful and waiting, but nothing had happened. A few curious students had passed through, as if on their way to classes, but Hank could hear their nervous whispers. They had been forewarned that there could be visions, and each one would be wondering if they might be the unlucky target. 

"It's Halloween, Hank. It won't be the same timetable," Charles said as he rolled closer. He looked outside as well. "Wait until it grows dark. If it is a child, then he or she will be out trick-or-treating. Or going to a haunted house, or a party with other children." Charles put his hand on Hank's forearm, and it was warm and comforting. "We might see nothing at all. A stomach-full of candy might keep him or her very comfortable, they might even fall asleep early."

"Hmm," Hank responded noncommittally. He rather thought the evening would end in disaster. 

Night fell slowly, mostly because Hank couldn't stop glancing outside at the sky. It turned vaguely pink and orange, then a vibrant purple, and finally a darker purple bleeding into a navy blue so dark that it became black. Pinpricks of stars shone in the heavens, and Hank watched as students loaded themselves into station wagons and mini-vans driven by teachers. They were all headed into town for various fun activities, and Hank was glad to see them leave. He suspected that wherever Charles was, there would be a frightening event. 

Thinking about Charles made Hank suddenly want to lay eyes on him. He wasn't sure exactly where he was within the mansion, and he wasn't entirely sure that something hadn't already happened to him. Hank found him in the study. 

There was a small fire in the grate and Charles was sitting comfortably in front of it. He had a book in his hands. 

"Reading?" Hank asked. 

"Yes," Charles replied and looked up at Hank with a twinkle in his eye. "The most dull, dry, and boring thing I could find. To a schoolchild anyway. I've found the most delightful treatise on polymorphisms. Triallelic variations--" Charles paused. "Do you hear something?"

Hank strained his attention to his hearing. "Yes," he said slowly. "It sounds like thunder. Or drums." 

There was a scream in the hall and Hank rushed to throw open the door to the study. He flung open the door and came face to face with a horse rearing up on its hind legs. The horse's flanks were damp with sweat, as if it had been running for a long while, and it breathed hard, its sides heaving in and out. Even as Hank ducked he thought, we should have smaller corridors, that way horses wouldn't fit. Then, the horse leapt over him, and Hank realized that there was a rider dressed all in black, with a cape that seemed to fill with wind of its own accord, and it was _headless_. 

"Charles!" Hank cried out. He glanced to the hall and saw that the scream must have come from Rahne, who was crouched in a doorway, in her half-wolf form, and perfectly safe. Making sure of that, he swiveled his attention back to Charles, and his split-second of lost reaction time meant that Charles had been scooped up out of his wheelchair and slung unceremoniously across the rider's lap. 

"Hank!" Charles called out, one finger to his temple in vain. "It doesn't have a mind!"

"It's _headless_ ," Hank yelled back, "of course it doesn't!" He chased down the horse and rider, but they twisted away from him, and through the window of the study and into the enveloping night beyond. 

"Rahne!" Hank yelled. "If you could help me follow that thing, I'd be much obliged."

A moment later, a blur of russet-brown fur sped by him. She sniffed the air, and then transformed back into the little girl that she was. "This way, Professor. Oh, it smells foul!" She transformed again, into a full wolf, and barreled out of the window in pursuit. 

Hank thanked his stars that she'd been in the hallway, and not another student with a less apt ability for the chase. Hank could see the rider and horse galloping across the lawn, an incongruous, overly large full-moon behind them, silhouetting the headless rider in grotesque glory. 

_Hank, I've asked Wolfsbane to refrain from coming too close. I will let you know where the horseman takes me. I suspect we may finally meet our mysterious mutant. If I'm not jostled to death first. I don't recommend this as a method of travel._

Hank felt a rush of relief. Of course. A telepath's worst nightmare would be a headless horseman, because it would have no mind to control. But that didn't keep Charles from contacting everyone else who did have their minds. 

It was nearly a fifteen mile course into town, and Hank was impressed with Rahne when he caught up to her. She didn't show any signs of fatigue and they had gone nearly five miles already. She transformed momentarily into her half-wolf form. "Professor," she said, "there're people out tonight." Hank could hear the concern in her tone, but he gave her a wry chuckle. 

"It's the one night of the year where you and I won't have to worry," he told her as they followed the trail left by the rider. "People expect to see werewolves and beasts."

"Oh," she said, "of course! Then, I may stay like this for a while." She smiled at Hank, full of pointed teeth, as they ran together. 

Hank smiled back. "This way. I think we're almost there." He could still glimpse the headless horseman in the distance, galloping like the hounds of hell were at its heels, but there was also a smattering of houses, and a small campfire. He could see figures walking around, hear the chatter of talking and laughter, and smell the food. The distinct scent of marshmallows particularly stood out. 

They were still a ways off when the horse and rider made itself known at the outdoor festivities. The delighted screams of children echoed out over the terrain. Hank could also hear the concerned murmurings of adults, unsure if it was a party trick. But Charles was there, and Hank trusted that he could contain the situation. 

It was another few, long minutes before Hank and Rahne made the party. He looked around, but everyone was smiling and eating, carrying on like normal. There was even a metal tub full of apples, waiting to be bobbed, and Hank wondered that such games were still even attempted. The horseman was nowhere to be found. No one even glanced at Hank or Rahne as they moved through the crowd. That, Hank knew for certain, was Charles' doing. 

"Hank! Rahne! Over here," Charles called out, and Hank turned to see that Charles was safely tucked into a garden chair with a blanket over him. An older Native American man was crouched beside him, holding one of Charles' hands, and he turned wise eyes to Hank. There was also a young girl, about Rahne's age, hovering over Charles as well, and exuding defiance and apology in equal parts. 

"Hello," Hank said as he approached. "I'm Professor Henry McCoy. This is Rahne Sinclair, one of our students."

"Hank, this is Black Eagle, and his granddaughter Danielle. She's the one who has been entertaining us all month long." Charles' mouth curved into a friendly smile, and he reached out to squeeze Danielle's hands. "Isn't she marvelous?"

Danielle looked obviously pleased to be called so, but also suspicious. "I wasn't doing it on purpose," she said. She glanced at Rahne, considering her. 

"Hi," Rahne said shyly. She was a little girl once again, and her smile was soft and not so full of teeth. 

"Hi," Danielle said, and she smiled back. Hank suddenly had a much better feeling about everything. 

Charles was speaking to Black Eagle. "How interesting. You say that you had a feeling that you needed to move here for school this year? Perhaps your granddaughter and you have more in common than you know."

"Perhaps," Black Eagle allowed, "There are those in our family that have always been given the power of great insight."

"Insight is an apt word for it. Your granddaughter has absolutely wonderful abilities. I have a school where many children attend, and our goal is to help them develop their skills. We want them to use those special abilities as safely as possible. I would love if you could come for a tour, so you could judge for yourself. It's a marvelous opportunity. Danielle would fit in so well there." Charles glanced at Hank, who was standing there in all his blue, hulking fur. "As you can see. We have a lot of teachers who understand how difficult it can be to grow up with more than the usual assortment of pressures."

Black Eagle looked very understanding, as if he commonly attended backyard parties where headless horsemen brought kidnapped private school headmasters. "Danielle is very special," he said, and put a hand on her shoulder. "We will see your school and decide together if it is the right decision."

At his touch, Danielle relaxed. 

"Now," Charles said, and rubbed his hands together. "The ride over chilled me a bit. Is there any mulled cider about?" Charles nodded at Hank. "And, Hank, since I don't think we want to return in the manner we came, would you call Alex or Sean and see about a car to get home?" 

"Of course," Hank said, and paused. Behind him he could hear Danielle's contemporaries gathering around the fire. 

"Who's ready for another Halloween ghost story?" asked one of the adult chaperones, with a gleeful, devilish look of mischief. 

Charles startled and raised a hand quickly to his forehead. "Oh, no, I don't think we want any more of that!"

Danielle giggled and covered her ears. "I promise I won't listen!"

Hank hastened to call for a ride home, just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick word about Danielle Moonstar's powers--I've obviously gone with an alternate choice of how she ends up at the school, and in the comics, it isn't until much later, and after a mishap in a lab while fighting some enemies, that her power is 'boosted' so that she doesn't just give people visions of what they desire or fear, but actually can make these things real. But only one at a time. So, I moved that up just a bit. Because otherwise, Charles never would have been able to have been kidnapped. ;)


End file.
